


The Sharp Horns of Dilemmas

by bsl



Series: Living the Hive Life [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Bumblebabies, Bumblebee - Freeform, Bumbleby - Freeform, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bsl/pseuds/bsl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Life is a constant oscillation between the sharp horns of dilemmas” H. L. Mencken</p><p>There would always be danger in their lives, but one danger they thought had been put to rest readies itself for another bite. Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang must stop the most precious cargo from falling into the wrong hands, or their world will collapse around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

Fog crept across the docks, brought in by the rolling waves of a sleepy sea. The night was dark and thick; the sky was low and heavy and the street lights around the warehouses were  barely lifting the weight of the blackness. It was either really late or really early, Oren couldn’t tell, but the air had teeth and they were sharpened with cold. He pulled the lapels of his coat tighter around his neck to try and block out the chill. It was unusually cold for mid-September and he was severely underdressed for the occasion; his pants were thin and sharply cut; his shoes more appropriate for a board meeting than the bite of the sea breeze, but still he waited, pacing in ever smaller circles to try and generate warmth.

There was fear in him, anyone watching would be able to see, but Oren was lucky; the weather was poor, and it was late. There was nobody there to watch him squirm. When life leads you to a fork in the road, you gotta take the route that doesn’t lead you to certain death, right? Even if that road makes you morally uncomfortable and leads to standing by shady warehouses on the docks when the rest of the city was sleeping soundly in their beds. He still had time to say no, but contemplating the wisdom of his decision at this point seemed redundant. He had arrived, he had waited, and though he technically could still run out on this job, there was no guarantee he’d live long enough to find another.

The fog deadened the sounds around him, and it wasn't until the helicopter was almost directly above that Oren had even noticed the rhythmic whirring of the rotating blades. As the helicopter descended the air whipped into a hurricane around him, ruffling his hair and buffeting his ears with knife edges on the wind. Everything was muffled and close, and the helicopter touched the concrete with the grace and weightlessness of a falling feather. A door on the side slid open and an arm reached out and beckoned him closer. His feet failed him for a moment of nervous hesitation as his stomach rolled over, but he quickly dismissed the sensation before he ducked his head and hurried into the transport.

“Good evening, Sable.” He greeted his new companion, finding great difficulty in maintaining eye contact with the woman for longer than a few moments. Her aura was imposing, and it was reinforced by her visage. A tight bun of dark hair sat atop her head, her skin was pale and smooth over pointed curves and a sharp face.

“Good evening Mr Lightfoot. I'm glad you decided to accept our generous offer.” Sable DeSauveterre put Oren on edge. She was knowing smiles and comforting pats on the back, but there was always a dagger concealed in her palm.

“I didn't realise I had any choice in the matter.” He replied, straightening his jacket.

“Of course you had a choice, but our organisation is very good at making particular options more… Desirable.” A smirk crossed his new companion’s face as a spark of dangerous amusement flashed in her eye.

“Threats of pain and death tend to have that effect.” Oren tried to bite his tongue, but the cold had already worn his patience down to a nub.

“Technicalities, really. You will be handsomely recompensed for your efforts towards our cause, I can assure you.” She flicked her hair back over her shoulder and nodded to the pilot, who took the signal and delicately lifted the helicopter into the air. Oren adjusted his feet and grasped at a handrail, suddenly aware of how deep he found himself in a mess he’d desperately tried to avoid. She had given him his chance to leave and he hadn't taken it, and now he was sharply aware of how easy it would be to drown.

“I hope you're ready.” She teased, her voice was laced with honey and malice, her posture sure but relaxed, and she knew that he was hers.

“I don't know if it's possible to be ready for something like this, but if you're asking if I can do my job? You already know the answer.” The helicopter banked and he tried to keep his stance stable, his knuckles blanching as his grip on the handrail turned to iron.

“And that is why we wanted you, Mr Lightfoot. You will be an exceptionally valuable asset to our cause, and my team looks forward to working with you.”

The edge of the ocean disappeared entirely from view and Oren gazed at the barren streets below. He couldn't help but wonder what would be left of them all when this was over.

 

\--

 

“What took you so long?” Zerua’s voice snapped like an icy twig underfoot as the door opened. Tangible nerves poured out of her body and she twitched with energy. It had been hours and there had been hot breath on her neck demanding answers.

“Calm yourself, we have company.” Sable’s voice was calm and the artificial pleasant tone made Oren’s feet prickle. She walked through the door with Oren close on her heels. His shoulders were tight and his eyes darted around the room, checking the corners and exits with a time-worn habituality. Zerua frowned, her arms crossing over her chest as her eyes quickly scoped the man from his wind-mussed hair to his polished black brogues. He was a cliché, she decided, and unimpressive. He also didn’t trust them, which was smart.

“He doesn’t look like he’s worth the money.” She muttered, her chin tilting up in an attempt to pull rank over Oren, but he simply chuckled.

“You don’t look like you’re worth the air in your lungs, but here we are.” His voice was gentle and without bite, and he didn’t even expend the effort to look at her properly as he spoke. Zerua huffed in the back of her throat as Sable let an easy laugh escape and walked over to place a soft hand on the slim girl’s shoulder.

“He has bite, my darling, and he will do what must be done.” Sable snatched at the girl’s chin and tilted her face to hers. “Will you?”

“Yes, of course!” She stuttered, her eyes wide and filled with the need to please. “Anything.”

“Good girl.” Sable patted Zerua’s cheek gently and walked past, beckoning the two to follow her over to the desk in the corner. She gestured for Oren to take a seat, and Zerua naturally moved to stand to attention to the right of Sable as she sat in her chair.

“So, how are we doing this?” Oren lazily crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, trying to force his body to relax in the company of this innately unsettling woman. He couldn’t tell if Sable made her little pet uncomfortable too, or if the lanky girl was always that twitchy. Sable took up her scroll in hand and flicked across the screen with ease. A few taps and she pinged a picture to Oren, which he opened and glanced at before setting his eyes back onto her. “What use are kids?”

A sadistic smile crept across her face, anticipation and excitement bubbled at the surface and Oren could taste her overconfidence on the air.“My dear Oren, these aren’t just any children. They are _her_ children, and they are worth their weight in dust.” She twisted her scroll on the desk and a text file shot over to his, filled with notes. “When we have them, we have her.”


	2. Uneasy Lies the Head That Wears the Crown

It was an undisputable fact that Blake loved Yang. She didn't love socks and underwear littered across the bathroom floor when the laundry basket was four feet away, but she could live with that in exchange for the joy that rippled through her body when watching Yang interact with their eight-year-olds. Yang’s love burned white hot for her family, it spread through her body with more ferocity each passing year, and in turn became more and more beautiful to witness. Whether it be reading Mica stories with a different ridiculous voice for each character, building Lian an enormous wizard beard out of soap suds in the bath, or effortlessly throwing each of them eight feet in the air in the backyard; there was nothing that quite compared to the bubbling laughter in their chests and the unbridled adoration that flowed freely between those three identical grins. 

Blake watched her daughters tumble across the grass in the back yard, Yang’s safe, dependable arms guiding the girls through backwards somersaults. A flash of black hair topped with golden tipped ears sprinted towards her mother and flung herself into a messy roundoff and back handspring, before she tucked up tight with her momentum flicking her head over heels. A firm hand placed itself on her back and gently guided her all the way back onto her feet. Yang mumbled words of encouragement as Mica stepped away and ran back across the grass, and an equally swift and small blonde rocketed across the space with sandy hair trailing from a high ponytail and matching ears pressed back against her head. She repeated her sister’s motions- a little higher, a little cleaner- and requested a kiss to her forehead after every stuck landing before she jogged barefoot to their starting point beside the flower bed. Blake’s heart bubbled in her chest. She would happily spend the rest of her life picking up socks if it meant she got to keep those moments.

Yang’s head turned and she spotted Blake through the window, smiling sweetly at her wife and beckoning her outside with a huge sweeping wave of her arm. Her daughters turned to look and she could hear them calling her through the glass to come and play, too. Without a moment’s hesitation she walked through the back door and across the grass to where Yang stood, her wife’s presence coiling around her and luring her in.

“How’s your back tuck looking these days, Kitten?” Yang said, her lilac eyes glinting in the bright sunshine. A teasing smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth as she innocently raised her eyebrows. “I could spot you, if you want?”

Blake bumped her hip lightly into her partner’s and a soft chuckle huffed dryly from her throat. “You know perfectly well how good it is.”

“Come on, Mom!” Lian jumped and shouted from across the yard, her ponytail shimmered and flowed like a river of pale gold between her shoulder blades. Lian loved watching Blake practice her tricks, the small girl was awed by the way her mother sailed effortlessly through the air, twisting, tucking, and always landing soundlessly on her feet. She worked so hard to emulate Blake’s graceful movements, not allowing herself to learn new tricks until she had adequately mastered the previous ones; soft landings, tight twists and plenty of height.

“Just one.” Blake quirked an eyebrow and glanced at the girls before jogging towards them, and Lian gazed up at her with excitement brimming in her eyes, one iris a warm and glittering gold and the other a pale, watery lilac. Mica snatched at Blake’s midsection and hugged her fiercely, nuzzling her face into her mother’s belly with a quiet purr.  Blake let her fingers lazily rake through raven hair for a moment before giving her a quick pat on the shoulder. Mica’s face and ears quirked upwards as she let her arms drop back to her sides as Blake turned to face Yang with a smirk. “Do you think I can make it?” She whispered, letting the air take the near silent words into her daughters’ ears. 

“Absolutely.” Lian muttered back just as quietly, not daring to move her head an inch, lest Yang notice their plotting from across the lawn.

“You’ve got this Mom.” Mica’s voice was hushed and unwavering, her face still and stony as she barely muttered the clipped words from behind tight teeth.

While both twins had inherited Yang’s glorious smile, they had also picked up Blake’s ears in the genetic lottery. Blake knew as well as any other that living as a faunus was not without its problems, but having daughters with particularly keen senses was fun, especially when it came to helping them surprise Yang. It took them a few years to realise that silently stalking Blake was a much more difficult task, and on several occasions they had plowed through the legs of a shadow clone and into a piece of furniture in a blustering failed attempt to catch her off-guard.

Blake readied herself, rocking back on her heels and taking a short breath, before she broke into a light run, heading straight for Yang. She skipped, light and swift on her feet, before she threw her hands down onto the ground and flipped herself far more gracefully than her daughters. Her feet stuck surely into the grass in front of her wife for a fraction of a second before she sprung her legs hard, feeling the coiled strength in her thighs snap into a powerful upwards momentum. She levered herself up over Yang’s impressive height and tucked her legs tightly into her chest, rotating easily in the space she had given herself. She opened out her tuck and landed softly and silently on the grass behind Yang, stepping forward to press a kiss against the bare skin on the back of Yang’s shoulder. Loud whoops and hollers echoed across their garden as Mica and Lian jumped and cheered, soft giggles and applause following behind. Yang turned and grasped at Blake’s waist with her golden arm, pulling her closer when Blake’s muscles jerked lightly against the cool metal at her back.

“I knew you’d still got it.” She said, pulling Blake into her and leaving a petal soft kiss on her lips. 

“Are you sure you didn't doubt me, just for just a second?” Blake replied before kissing back.

“Nope, never.” Yang turned her head to their daughters, who were whispering and giggling beside the rose bushes. “Okay kiddos, we gotta get ready or Auntie Weiss is gonna be mad when we’re late.” 

The two nodded and took a step, each throwing a handful of flower petals into the air as they started running full pelt past their parents and towards the kitchen. “We’re Aunt Ruby!” Mica shouted as she shot through the door with her sister close on her heels, leaving a trail of blood red slivers against the grass.

“I swear they are just tiny versions of you.” Blake mumbled as she loosed sweet peals of laughter into Yang’s shoulder.

“Like you’d want it any different.” She dropped her left hand to Blake’s ass and gave it a playful squeeze. “Come on, don't want to make Auntie Weiss mad.”

-

“You’re late.” Weiss tutted as the Xiao Longs tumbled through her front door in a mess of black and gold and long limbs, with mildly apologetic expressions slapped across all four faces. She rolled her eyes as Yang raised her eyebrow and waited patiently for the inevitable excuse as to why they were showing up late to dinner, again.

“We’re not super late.” Yang shot back, moving aside to let Mica and Lian push her and assault their aunt with hugs. Weiss let out a light and only slightly disgruntled sigh as she squatted down to wrap both girls in a warm hug, pressing soft kisses to their smile-rounded cheeks as they said their hellos. 

“Poppy and Coralie are in the dining room.” She told them, and they kissed her cheeks in return before skittering off at speed down the hall in search of their cousins. 

“I'm sorry, Weiss.” Blake said as she closed the heavy white door behind herself, gently pushing until the lock clicked lazily into place with a thick and slow snap. “Mica is still being... contrary when it comes to bath time.”

“It’s fine, I know exactly how you feel.” Weiss sighed and slung a hand onto her hip, shifting her weight onto her left leg and flicking her bangs from her eyes with a soft shake of her head. “Ever since Mica told us about her semblance, Coralie has been an absolute nightmare. I think she’s been trying to trigger hers.”

“I hope she’s not done anything dangerous.” Yang furrowed her brow, her words laced with concern for both her niece and Weiss.

“Not yet,” Weiss said as they walked away from the door, shoes clipping on the hardwood floor of the hall towards the dining room. “I caught her trying to use Myrtenaster to cast glyphs a few days ago, thankfully it wasn’t loaded. I think I need to get her something blunt that she can practice with.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? It could just turn into something blunt that she can hit Poppy with.” Blake said, silently pleading that her girls wouldn't gain a particularly strong interest in weapons for a long while.

“I'm sure it’s exceedingly unwise, but what else can I do?” They passed through the wide archway into the manor’s spacious dining room. The room was excessively large for so few people, but the Schnees were notoriously experts in excess. Weiss had protested at length about living in a vast house, despising the thought of living in something that so very epitomised the Schnee reputation she tried so hard to shake; but the manor was bought by her father’s company and they were moved in without so much as a question aimed in her or Ruby’s direction. They had tried so hard to turn the cavernous building into a home. Throughout the house, walls were littered with children's drawings, paintings, and photographs, many of which included Blake, Yang, Mica and Lian. The surfaces were covered in picture frames, toys, and roughly modelled clay figures. The furniture that her father had supplied had been changed in almost every room, replacing stark design and ornamental centrepieces with comfortable seats almost designed for naps and cushions in their favourite colours, but the dining room was still an ostentatious ode to the Schnee Dust Company aesthetic. 

The table was long and wide, made thick and heavy with dark wood and inlaid with silver casts of the Schnee emblem at every corner. A larger version was set in the centre, mirrored from above by a crystal chandelier that cast glittering flecks of light across the white walls and ceiling. The chairs were high-backed, upholstered with soft, supple, and expensive white leather and trimmed with the same pale blue that accented the edges of the floor-length drapes at every long and wide window. It was ludicrous, and Weiss had been very vocal about how she thought so until they started filling it with their family for dinner on Fridays. For the first few years it was just the four of them laughing and sharing stories over home cooked food and sweet wine. Then Weiss had Poppy, and they would take turns in feeding and entertaining her between conversation and courses. Ruby gave birth to Coralie and their little family grew larger, with two sets of sisters around that enormous table that seemed so much smaller now it was filled with people she loved. A few years later, Blake’s body finally acquiesced and gave them Mica and Lian, and regardless of the empty seats that sat unused, the room was filled to the brim with life and love and contagious giggles, and Weiss couldn't possibly harbour hatred for that table any more. 

As they passed into the room, Weiss smiled at Yang with her arms full of children. She’d wrapped herself around Poppy and Coralie, and Mica and Lian tugged at their mama’s arms to try and make her let go as the older girls bright laughs bounced off every surface in the room. Poppy and Coralie squirmed like wet fish in Yang’s enormous hug, but regardless of the laughter Coralie called out between deep breaths, “Auntie Blake, please! Help!”

Blake stepped up behind her wife, and with a sly grin she dug knowing fingers into the ticklish spots either side of Yang’s ribs. Yang’s arms sprung open, she let go of the girls immediately to deal with Blake’s unwanted assault, great peals of laughter rolling from her throat as she swatted nimble hands away from the vulnerable points on her torso. Blake raised her hands in surrender and stepped around Yang to smooth down the flyaway white-blonde hairs on Coralie’s head and press a little kiss to her cheek. “Better, sweetie?” Blake asked, and Coralie nodded, a clipped smile on her small, rounded face. A flash passed through Poppy’s eyes, and Weiss felt herself straighten.

“Poppy, don’t-” Weiss’s voice was clear but unheeded. The teenager disappeared in a flurry of white and reappeared behind Yang, littering her aunt with rose petals and driving her fingers into the ticklish spots revealed moments before by Blake. Yang creased and before long the other three girls had joined in, poking and prodding at the woman until tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. 

“Stop! Uncle! I yield!” Yang called out but the girls didn’t listen, pinning her to the ground with merciless fingers. “Blake, help me!” She cried out, but Blake just stood there and watched, a chuckle on her lips. Yang could tell she had been abandoned, and in that moment she let her eye flash crimson and her semblance activate. The power briefly engulfed her in bright flames and knocked the girls away from her, sending them skidding back a foot so or across the dark wooden floor on their backsides. Yang laughed as her eyes snapped back to lilac in an instant and after she stood she reached out her arms to help her nieces from the floor. “Play with fire and you’re gonna get burned.” She quipped, and Weiss simply shook her head at the antics that gave her house the soul she adored.

“Now now, children,” Weiss looked pointedly at Yang, “it’s time to eat.”

-

“So it’s getting worse?” Blake asked, her eyebrows creasing together. The food had been eaten, the dishes cleared, and the children shepherded upstairs to leave Weiss, Ruby, Yang and Blake clustered around one end of the table. Almost as soon as the girls had left, their conversation had turned to work- specifically to Weiss’ work. They all knew that the woman worked too hard, but they appreciated her need to get things off her chest in a safe environment.

“Two more this week in the other regions, so they’re increasing in regularity, but there’s still been no issues in Vale.” Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose to try and dissipate the sharp headache pinching the nerve endings behind her eyes. “The board is concerned, but every time I send them the details of the operating practices I’ve put into place they just laugh it off, and ask me what I’m really doing to stave off any raids.” Ruby laid her hand over Weiss’ on the table and frowned, clearly having heard the frustrations already.

“Do they know who’s behind it yet?” Yang asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I mean, dust shipments and mine collapses? I know nobody wants to say White Fang, but we’re all thinking it.”

Blake’s eyes shifted to Yang, the lines on her brow deepening as she frowned. She looked down to her hands and picked at her cuticles as her mind raced through possibilities that pointed at anyone but the White Fang. There had to be another explanation, surely there was. The White Fang were history, a dirty smudge on the page of the Faunus rights movement. Other criminals needed Dust, stores were regularly hit in small-time robberies, perhaps another gang was just looking to expand their operations. Ruby watched Blake shrink into her thoughts and was roughly slapped with a desperate need to comfort her sister-in-law.

“The White Fang were stopped years ago, Yang. There’s nothing left to cause a problem.” Ruby shrugged, watching out of the corner of her eye for the tension in Blake’s frame to dissolve. “I know you want to look at all the angles, but there’s got to be a simpler answer. When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.” She flicked her head quickly to shoot a glance to Weiss, and Weiss’ head bobbed lightly, her face level with placidity that only comes with experience.

“No groups have claimed responsibility, and in all honesty I fail to see anything more than criminals looking to resell quality Dust.” Weiss reached across the table and rested her palm on top of Blake’s fidgeting hands, pulling the woman from her introspection. “Nobody has been hurt, and nothing of real consequence has been stolen. It’s just a case of Dust theft, and that could be anyone.” Blake lifted her head gently to look at Weiss, the calming blue gaze easing the tension in her shoulders. As Blake cracked a small smile, the airy chime of a Scroll broke the quiet. Weiss rolled her eyes as Blake tensed again, and she dropped her hand to her pocket to pull out the device and open the new message.

“The board have called a meeting in Atlas for all four regional divisions.” She mumbled as she scrolled through the message, her free hand drumming a sharp rhythm on the table. “They want me to officially present my operational practices.” 

“Well that sounds dull.” Yang nudged the back of one of her knuckles gently against Blake’s thigh, and warmth broke over her skin when Blake dropped a hand into her lap to trail her fingers cautiously over Yang’s.

“It absolutely will be.” Weiss sighed, and delicate fingers placed her Scroll on the table before dropping her head into her hands. “And I bet my father will find the whole thing absurd. He rarely wants to hear a word I have to say, and he’s convinced our reports are tweaked to show favourable outcomes.”

“It’s no big deal, Weiss. You go up, give the presentation, tell them what you do and then come home. It’ll be a weekend at most, and when you come back we’ll do something super nice with the girls.” Ruby flashed an honest smile, ever the expert at calming her highly-strung partner. Weiss lifted her head and took a short breath, letting out a bubble of stress with a soft  _ huff _ . 

“You are exactly right, it’s no big deal. I am good at my job, and I will make them see that.” Weiss straightened in her leather seat, pressing her spine flush against the tall, upright backrest. She would not buckle or waver under her father’s piercing gaze; his opinion hardly mattered when she knew that her techniques were working, and if the rest of the board could see that then her practices could be rolled out to all of the subdivisions. Schnee Dust Company could have all of its labour sources completely above board in a very short space of time, and that would make a huge impact on the lives of the company’s faunus employees. That in itself was enough motivation for Weiss to shake off any lingering doubts, hesitations, or displeasure, and let a small smile settle itself on her lips. She would organise the trip as soon as possible, and ready her hand for play at her father’s table.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at an actual chaptered work of fiction. Please leave feedback, I need all the help I can get!


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